Body Heat (20 page)

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Authors: Susan Fox

BOOK: Body Heat
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Chris laughed. “He’s a man of few words. Let us know if we can do anything else for you.”
Maura promised to send her a tax receipt, then hung up, shaking her head.
As she switched laundry from the washer to the dryer, she mused over what she’d learned. So Jesse helped troubled kids as well as being nice to seniors.
And, completely unknowingly, he’d helped her, by serving as the unlikely spark to the steamy fantasies that had awakened her dormant sexuality.
Yet he had, as he’d admitted himself, beat a man up. He had that bad boy edge, and she’d seen things in his face that troubled her. Things that excited her, too, but that was a whole other issue.
For two days, she’d been his supervisor, she’d let him mingle with the seniors, but she didn’t really know what kind of man he was. She had assumed Louise Michaels wouldn’t let a hard-core criminal do community service at Cherry Lane, but maybe Jesse’s lawyer had put a spin on the story. Maybe Louise had been distracted by her and Don’s efforts to adopt.
Suddenly, Maura had to know the full truth about Jesse. Besides, if Louise and Don really were new parents, she wanted to offer her congratulations.
She dialed Louise’s cell phone. “Hi, it’s Maura. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“No, it’s fine. And it was only Braxton Hicks contractions yesterday, or I’d have called with the news. But it could happen any moment now. We’re with Brittany now, and we’re all so impatient.”
“I bet.”
“We met the dad, too. He’s a good boy. They’re still dating, but no way do they want to settle down at their age. Thank heavens for us!”
Maura was about to tell her how happy she was for them when Louise rushed on. “Did I tell you the baby’s a boy? The four of us all talked about it, and we agreed on the name Jeff. With a J not a G. Well, Jeffrey, actually.”
“It’s a great name.” Maura wondered if—hoped that—one day she’d be doing this herself: choosing a baby name. This morning, she felt more hopeful about marriage and children. She was a sensual woman and on Friday she had a date with a really nice guy. “I’m so happy that it’s working out for you.”
“So am I. Oh, gosh, so am I.” Louise’s voice sounded teary.
They were both quiet for a moment, then Maura said, “I hate to bother you, but I’ve got one quick question.”
“Oh! Oh, of course. I forgot all about Cherry Lane. How are things going? How are all my sweeties?”
“Everyone’s great. It appears that Fred Dykstra and Lizzie Gilmore may be an item.”
“Aw, good for them.”
“And we’re getting a garden in the courtyard.”
“What! You don’t say. The Board approved it?”
“I haven’t had to go to them yet because so far the expenses are low, and within our budget. I put your community service project to work.”
“Great idea. What’s he like?”
“Uh, he’s—”
Pure sex, walking.
Maura cleared her throat.
“A hard worker, and he gets along well with our residents.” She wouldn’t mention Fred Dykstra’s motorcycle ride; she’d handled that problem just fine. “The only trouble is, we can’t find your file on him.”
“Oh, really? Let’s see, I would have labeled it with either his name or ‘Community Service.’ ”
“So we figured, but Gracie looked in your filing cabinet—”
“Wait! I know where it is. Oh, no, I can’t believe I did this. There’s a stack of stuff on the credenza in my office. Things I was dealing with just before I left. You’ll find the file there, and would you mind taking a look at the other things, too? I think there’s something I wanted Gracie to do, but beats me if I can remember now. My brain’s so focused on the baby. And, Maura, those are HR files and should be locked in the cabinet. Please do that right away, or get Gracie to.”
“I will.” She’d drop into Cherry Lane while she was out grocery shopping. Gracie, the only other person with authority to deal with confidential files, wasn’t working today. “By the way, do you recall why you agreed to have Jesse Blue do his community service with us?”
“Let’s see . . . His lawyer, Barry Adamson, and I are friends from Toastmasters and I often talk about Cherry Lane. About how great our residents are, and all the life lessons they’ve learned and are willing to share. Barry mentioned this client of his, who could stand to learn a lesson or two.” In the background Maura heard what sounded like a knock.
“Do you remember what offense Jesse was charged with?”
“It was assault. I know that sounds terrible, but Barry told me the whole story and assured me this young man would never endanger our residents or staff.”
Assault. So Jesse hadn’t lied to her. “The whole story?” she echoed, encouraging Louise to go on.
“Let me remember. There was a girl, and she—” She broke off.
In the background Maura heard a high-pitched female voice squeal, “The baby’s coming!”
“Are you sure this time?” Louise asked, her own voice excited.
“My water broke!”
“Gotta go,” Louise said into the phone, then hung up before Maura could wish them all luck.
Quickly, Maura hung up the clothes from the dryer, then headed for her car.
When Maura entered Cherry Lane, Ming-mei was chatting with one of the physical therapists, a pleasant young woman her own age. It looked like the shy receptionist was making a friend.
“Maura,” Ming-mei said, “what are you doing here today?”
“I need to do a couple of things.” She paused and said to the two of them, “By the way, cross your fingers for Louise. The baby’s coming, and it’s for real this time.” She knew that Louise, who was much more sociable and popular than she was, would love to know everyone was rooting for her.
In Louise’s office, Maura found a stack of files and papers on the back corner of the credenza. “Aha!” Halfway down the pile was a folder neatly labeled JESSE BLUE.
She sank into Louise’s chair and began to read. Halfway through, she gasped and clutched at her chest. Yes, he’d beaten a man up, as he’d told her. But she’d imagined a bar brawl, a few punches thrown. In fact, the man had broken ribs, an injury to his spleen, a broken arm, several broken fingers, and a broken nose. There were no pictures in the file, thank heavens, but Maura’s imagination supplied an image of the poor victim, Gord Pollan.
Hands shaking, feeling nauseous, she dropped the file on the desk. How could the Jesse she knew have done such a thing? This was . . . sheer violence. It was inhuman.
When she regained her composure she read on, but the file was too brief to provide much illumination. Louise had said a girl was involved. Jesse had beaten this man almost to death over a girl?
She locked up all Louise’s HR files and wrote herself a reminder to go through them when she was in tomorrow, then went to her own office and found Barry Adamson’s card. The receptionist at his firm put her through to his voice mail. She gnashed her teeth, left her cell number, and asked him to call her as soon as possible.
Maura hurried through her grocery shopping, then headed home. Working methodically through the chores on her list, she tried hard not to imagine Jesse, his face flushed with anger, punching and kicking another man.
It was noon when Barry Adamson phoned. “Sorry I missed your call, but I’m in court today. Is there a problem with Jesse?”
“He nearly killed a man.”
“What?” he bellowed. “Who?”
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I’m referring to Gord Pollan.” That name was etched in her mind.
“Huh? You already knew about Pollan, from the file. I’m not following.”
“I didn’t know about him. Louise did, and obviously the two of you discussed it, but she didn’t have a chance to fill me in. I’ve only just seen the file, and I have to say, I don’t understand what you were thinking, you and Louise. This is a seniors facility. These are gentle old people. We don’t want someone violent here.”
“Oh, uh, Jesse hasn’t been violent, has he?” he asked cautiously, confirming her fear that Jesse very well might be violent.
“Not yet,” she said darkly. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”
“I doubt that. I mean, the fact pattern certainly isn’t going to repeat at Cherry Lane. It was a very unusual one.”
“What, exactly,
was
the fact pattern? That wasn’t in the file. I gather a girl was involved?” Sometimes Maura wished she were more attractive to men, but she’d never
ever
wished that two would fight over her.
“This jerk Pollan was harassing a friend of Jesse’s. An ongoing pattern of abuse. So Jesse, uh, put an end to it.” To her astonishment, the lawyer sounded admiring, like a little kid looking up to a hero—except in this case his hero was the playground bully.
Men! Honestly. Okay, maybe the fight hadn’t been over a girl, in the sense she’d first thought. Jesse had apparently thought he was protecting a friend. But what a stupid, caveman way to go about it. “Violence is hardly the way to put an end to abuse.”
“Well no, not usually, but . . . Oh, sh-oot, I’ve got to get back into court.”
He hung up on her.
Maura buried her face in her hands and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips, realizing she had a headache. Jesse Blue had distracted her from her schedule all weekend, and now he was ruining her one day off. But the fact was, she couldn’t get the picture out of her head: big, strong Jesse using those very masculine hands to attack another man. To beat him to a pulp.
No way would she ever fantasize over Jesse Blue again.
All afternoon, the knowledge of Jesse’s crime was a dark cloud hanging over her. When she made a tomato bocconcini salad for dinner—using her own basil—it seemed flavorless and she shoved it away unfinished. Even her wine didn’t taste the same as usual, and she took no more than a couple of sips.
This was ridiculous. She was in charge, not Louise. If she was going to ban Jesse from Cherry Lane, then she should
just do it
! She could leave a voice mail for Barry Adamson and never have to see Jesse again.
The idea of not seeing Jesse again made her stomach feel hollow. No, that must just be hunger. She’d barely eaten a thing all day. Yet she had no appetite.
Gather all the information and weigh it carefully, and never act on impulse.
Right. That advice had always served her well.
The facts set out in Jesse’s file were horrendous, but the judge hadn’t locked him up. Louise and Barry believed it would be all right for him to work at Cherry Lane. Louise had contemplated that he would interact with the residents. How could an almost-killer be trusted to interact with fragile seniors and learn life lessons from them? And what was the unusual fact pattern the lawyer had referred to?
Tomorrow morning, she’d phone Barry again and try to catch him before he went into court.
She paced around her apartment, straightening things she’d already straightened. “Aagh! I have to see Jesse.”
She had to know now, from him not from Barry Adamson—to ask him to his face, and this time not let him get away with an evasive answer. And she was pretty sure where he was tonight. Chris at the garden center had told her.
It took only a few seconds to find the address of Delancey Secondary.
The school was in a part of town she didn’t know, so she let her Smart Car’s GPS guide her there. She pulled into the parking lot next to a basketball court where a bunch of teenage boys, young men, and two or three girls were running around. Pulling down the sun visor, she hid behind her sun glasses, feeling like a spy.
Jesse was the biggest, the most mature, by a long stretch. And he looked quite breathtaking in another of those holey tank tops and a pair of baggy shorts. He had fabulous legs, strong and well-shaped, sprinkled with dark hair. The kids were a mixed bag, from skeletally thin to chubs, shaven heads to long dreadlocks. Black, white, Hispanic, Native American, Asian.
She didn’t know anything about the game of basketball except that the objective was to get the ball through the hoop, but she didn’t care. What caught her interest was the conversation that carried through her open car windows, and the group dynamics. Some of the kids were confident and others not; some were buddies and some were loners.
The tension that had gripped her all day eased a little as she watched and listened.
The kids were getting a workout, developing their skills and learning how to be part of a team. Learning how to respect each other rather than to grandstand. Jesse was a natural leader. He was as good with these young people as he was with her seniors.
He’d beaten Gord Pollan close to death, yet he used his spare time to coach troubled teens. His fists had shattered human bones, yet she remembered the gentle way he’d taken Virginia’s frail hand to help her out of the swing. Jesse Blue was an enigma, and she needed to know his secrets. For the sake of her seniors, of course.
Surely he couldn’t have done what he’d been charged with. There must have been some mistake. That’s why he hadn’t been sent to jail. She would wait until the game was finished and the kids had headed home, then she’d talk to him.

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